


Don't Worry, I Will

by asexualshepard



Series: The Adventures of Alais Lavellan, Leader of the Inquisition [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blushing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hand Kisses, Lazy Mornings, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mornings, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, finger kisses, fuck idk i'm so done with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualshepard/pseuds/asexualshepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was beautiful. She’d even told him so on a few occasions—when he stole her breath just as the rock formations in the Western Approach had. Like he was now. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Worry, I Will

Alais had spent the majority of her life spread thin between navigating woodland paths and avoiding noble boots in a thousand different cities. That said, she’d seen much, but she’d never experienced the heat of a desert or climbed a mountain. That’s what made her trips away from Skyhold exciting. She found herself breathless more than once and had often pulled her horse to a complete stop. Dorian had given her a few choice words the last time—she’d nearly driven him off the path.

So, yes, she loved being away from Skyhold.

It was the _leaving_ Skyhold that she didn’t like.

On the morning she was to leave for the Hinterlands—a routine check on the mages in Redcliffe—she woke to sunlight playing on the back of her neck and shoulders. She was thankful for the warmth staining her skin, seeping out the cold mountain air that had free access to the tower; she really needed to convince Cullen to let her have someone fix that damn hole.

The man himself was still asleep, the same light that caressed her shoulders trailing over his face and dropping shadows over his features in interesting ways. He lay on his back, the arm nearest her buried beneath his pillow and propping up his head. The other was folded at his side, his fingers weaved together with her own and resting gently on his stomach, rising and falling comfortingly with each inhale and exhale.

His eyelids flickered, and Alais fought the urge to kiss him. She knew how lightly he slept—if he could get to sleep at all, that was—and had no desire to wake him. Instead, she adjusted the arm she’d propped beneath her pillow the night before. She set herself so her view of him was unobstructed and the thumb of the hand laced with his gently, cautiously rubbed the skin over his ribcage.

He was beautiful. She’d even told him so on a few occasions—when he stole her breath just as the rock formations in the Western Approach had. Like he was now.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered into her pillow, hoping the words would not reach his ears. They didn’t, and he remained still.

Turning her head, she looked past the vines growing into the stone to the blue sky above. Though she couldn’t tell the hour, she knew it was near midday. No doubt her companions would be livid at her tardiness. Again.

However, returning her eyes to Cullen’s relaxed features, she found herself unable to care. They got too few moments like this—alone, together, and relaxed. There was always something that needed their attention, and often it was something different for either of them. They stole moments when they could. Brief kisses after Leliana and Josephine left the war room, quick touches as they passed each other in the corridor. But mornings like this were few and far between.

As much as she wanted to stay and study every single detail of his nose, his brow, his lips, she needed to go, or they wouldn’t reach Redcliffe before nightfall.

Carefully, she slipped as far away from him as she could without releasing his hand. It was there that she hesitated. Letting go of him always gave her pause. She strengthened her resolve and slowly slid her slim fingers from between his thicker ones, allowing her to stand. Though she was stripped of all her clothing, she paused to watch him for one last moment, covering herself as best she could with her arms.

With a final deep breath, she turned and padded towards his trunk as quietly as she could. She bit her lip as she undid the latch and raised the lid, praying to the Creators that the hinges wouldn’t creak as they normally did. She glanced over her shoulder. Cullen hadn’t moved, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Cullen’s trunk was split down the middle. The left half was filled with his things—clothes, trinkets (several of which she’d given to him), books. The right half contained some of her clothes. Not many, but enough that if she ended up spending the night every once in a while she wouldn’t have to leave in what she’d been wearing when she arrived. She fished around to find the riding leathers she knew that she’d stashed at the bottom, and, after a few minutes, pulled them out with a triumphant smile.

She shut the trunk as quietly as she could and then stood, looking down at the leathers in her hands. She turned to go to the other side of the room where she knew she would be far enough from the bed so as not to wake Cullen.

Naturally, she didn’t need to, because she found a pair of golden eyes watching her every move.

She was quick to cover herself once more, the leathers pressing against her chest. The first time she’d done such a thing, he’d teased her over her modesty, but he knew her well enough now to allow her this—whatever made her comfortable.

He turned his head the opposite way, and she pulled on her smallclothes as quickly as she could, the leathers following.

“I’m decent,” she said quietly as she began fixing the latches at her sides.

Cullen’s eyes returned to her, soft and focused. She glanced at him while she struggled with one of the latches to find him intently gazing at her hands, and the tips of her ears were quickly going red. He smiled.

It had been months—nearing half a year, she thought—since that first kiss on the battlements. In that time, he’d become far less awkward around her; he was bolder with his words and gestures, and he only blushed when they were in other company.

Alais, on the other hand, was still a flushed mess, albeit a more confident one.   

“You should have woken me,” Cullen muttered, his hand leaving his ribs and stretching out towards her.

She stepped towards him, her fingers wrapping around his palm and his fingers doing the same with hers. He shifted to sit on the end of the bed and gently tugged her closer, brushing his rough lips across her knuckles.

“I hate waking you,” she spoke softly, the bridge of her nose going a few shades darker as he opened her hand to kiss the tips of her fingers.

“And I hate when you leave _without_ waking me,” he countered before pressing his lips to her palm.

“I believe we’re at an impasse.”

Cullen smiled against her hand. “So it would seem.”

They stood like this for several moments, her thumb settled against the side of his chilled nose. His eyes closed, and hers followed the lines of his cheekbones, the planes of his forehead. She felt the urge to tell him how beautiful he was again.

Finally, he heaved a sigh against her hand and pulled it from his mouth, wrapping it instead in both of his. He looked up at her—which was not as far as it sounds; she was very short—and looked her in the eye. His were a tad darker than normal, as they always were when he was worried about her.

“I don’t like these trips to Redcliffe,” he said, one thumb caressing the back of her hand and the other stroking her wrist.

It was not uncommon for him to say he didn’t like when she left—he truly was a mother hen—but they both knew he wasn’t thinking of common dangers.

“Cullen—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his eyes dropping to their hands. “It’s a fear with no base, but a fear nonetheless.”

She took a slow breath. He was trying, he wanted to be better, but he’d told her on several occasions how hard it was. He frequently got frustrated with himself when he treated mages with undeserved mistrust. Once, he’d told her he was afraid it was a part of him, one he’d never be able to rid himself of. Conversations such as that one only occurred when the withdrawal was at its worst, stripping him of who he wanted to be and breaking him in the process.

Thinking of those awful nights, Alais raised her hand to press her fingers through his unruly hair. “Will you be alright?” she questioned. She knew specifics were not necessary—he’d understand what she was asking.

“I will endure.”

Despite having just woken from a fairly sound night’s sleep, he sounded exhausted.

“I can postpone Redcliffe, Cullen. A few more days between inquiries won’t see the city burned down.”

He shook his head, his left hand leaving its place with its brother to roam up her forearm. “The Inquisition—and all duties therein—take priority.” He raised her hand again and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist, where her pulse beat steadily. “I will not be a burden.”

“You’re never a burden.”

With a sigh and a sad smile, he released her hand and wrapped his arms around her hips, bringing her to stand between his knees as he pressed his forehead against her sternum. She ran her hands through his hair once, twice, before allowing her fingers to rest at the nape of his neck.

“You should go,” he muttered, his arms tightening around her contradictorily.

She took a small step away from him, his arms loosening so that his fingers pressed into the small of her back, and ran her fingers through his hair again. This time, she pulled his head back, bringing his eyes to hers. She took a few moments to cement his visage in her mind, and then leaned down to press her lips to his.

The kiss was bittersweet, as all goodbye kisses were—tender almost to a fault and far, far too short. It still managed to leave her breathless, though. They always did.

“I love you,” she whispered against him.

“And I you,” he returned, his fingers attempting to find skin between the waist of her breeches and the hem of the tunic beneath her leathers.

Reluctantly, she stepped out of his grasp. Her fingers lingered on his cheek for a moment before she paced over to the top of the ladder. Her boots sat beside it, exactly where she’d left them, and she was slow to shove her feet into them and tug the laces tight. She’d just finished tying up the boot on her right foot when she heard the floorboards behind her creak.

Her fingers flew as the creaking got nearer, a smile gracing her lips as it stopped at her hip. She tied a knot at the top of the final laces and turned to look over her shoulder. Cullen was staring down at her, the sheets wrapped around his waist and held there by his hand, and Alais felt incredibly lucky to have him. She knew the sheet was only there for her comfort.

Then, he was kneeling beside her, the hand not holding the sheet against his hip rising to her face quickly. He pressed his fingers to the underside of her jaw and directed her lips towards his—a final kiss before she would ease herself down the ladder.

“Be safe.”

_Please come back to me._

“I will, Cullen.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was really sad. I owe these two nerds a lot right now.


End file.
